In Such a Small Package
by Blackfire 18
Summary: Christine and all of the others are gone. All that is left is Erik. Even through the darkness there is a voice of purity a voice in divine need of the Angel of Music...


**In Such a Small Package**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera or any of the characters there within.**

Crying. Soft crying. He could hear it all around him, in the walls, in the ground, in the furniture. Everywhere. Obnoxious but soft.

_Someone has strayed from the path. No! I will have nothing to do with this one. The lost soul could just stay lost and rot for all I bloody care! _The terrible sound came back two-fold to taunt him. _Oh that hideous noise…Christine, oh Christine; you will be so good as to let me ignore these terrible cries. _He sighed. _Christine, a ghost beseeching another of its kind. You are nothing to me, and yet, you are my world—all around me. I am constantly reminded of your sweet presence. Why must you torment me?_

With a tired groan, he rose from his comfortable recline to stand, massaging his pounding temples. He rose his sharp eyes to the heaven's after having safely secured his cloak and mask in one clean sweep.

"Curse you!"

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It was a young girl, lost in the maze at the traveling circus. He had half a mind to turn back, for he did not have the fondest memories for the circus, having contributed more than he was willing to contribute. But he had no choice, he relinquished to the fact, that such an act would have made Christine happy and if that were so, he would go to all lengths.

He knew it was a young girl because of the voice and music was his forte. The smell of glazed crescent and half eaten caramel apples wafted around him on the stale air. The entire park abandoned—all except the lost one and himself. The traveling circus was the monster, not he!

He clenched his fists inside of his black, leather gloves—a lovely pair he had found in the last buggy he rode to the Opera House. He smiled at the memory of fooling its occupant before a frown settled on his features. _Christine would not have much admired the act. Christine, Christine. I pray that you shall forgive me; you know how mankind treats a monster of its whole. But Christine, a monster must live too!_

In this manner he had reached the entrance to the mirrors. He knew the way through even if he walked backwards. His maze was no puzzle to him. The true riddle was how to find the lost child. He paused at the entrance, listening. She was in the Northeast corner, maybe a passage or two from the very corner itself. The little child was very deep and quite lost if she had worked her way into that particular corner. There was only one way in and by the means he had arranged the mirrors, it was a frustrating time to exit again. He still had half a mind to leave, but as he thought this, his right hand slipped into his pocket and crushed his fingers and palm about the thorns of a rose. Her rose. The very rose upon her white lace wedding gown, the very same that he had chosen after many an hour of decision. He later added the crimson rose against the backdrop of the white dress. To see his love in the gown tore his breath from his throat and choked his heart in joy. Even the memory caused him to tremble, he feared to touch the beautiful doll like creature that was Christine. Before going away with Raoul and shattering his heart, she had pressed the rose into the palm of his hand. He stood straight and set his jaw, cloak billowing in the breeze behind him—and entered his maze.

He found the child only after a few moments searching, but at the brink of exposure, he hesitated. He wished for any other possible way than to reveal himself, for the mirrors had not betrayed his presence, yet. He waited, mind working furiously at the weighing of possible consequences and which action would be the best to promote. If he left now, he did not risk exposure of his sudden presence, but the crying would undeniably resume below—to echo forever within the walls of his home. If he stayed and continued to find the child, the horrid sound would cease, but he risked a child to have the knowledge of something darker. What he had kept hidden all of his life from all the world-his face. But this child—this little one could not reach up to tear the cloth which concealed his visage…no, what was he thinking? A young girl would never be so devious, especially one afraid and in need of his aid.

With a deep breath and a regal glare at all of his reflections, Erik appeared before the small child. She raised her eyes to him after peeking at his feet and blinked away the tears that blurred her vision. Erik could not help but smile slightly at the little girl. Her straight locks of golden-brown hair and bright blue eyes gazed back into his, startled. Her little light-blue dress bore smudges of earth and torn slightly around her legs. Her lips were parted in surprise and her tiny hands froze mid-way to her face, forgetting what task they had about to do.

"Good evening, mademoiselle." He spoke softly so as not to frighten her and the little girl broke from her trance, only to enter into another that Erik's voice created. She could only blink in bewilderment, uncertain of how to respond to the man and awed by the tones which had issued from his throat. "Come child, I shall lead you out of here." He paused when she only stared back in reply, still in a slight shock and still uncertain of his intentions. "Unless, of course, you wish to stay here." He motioned around himself. She suddenly started out of the second trance and got shakily to her feet. She stumbled forward and Erik suddenly and fearfully aware of the proximity between them shifted to one side and found himself kneeling swiftly to catch her with outstretched arms. She caught his arms and steadied herself with an audible "oof" and smiled warmly up at Erik.

"Thank you." She said, but it sounded as if the phrase had only just been learned. Erik smiled to himself and released her gently from his grasp and stepped forward, heading for the exit. "Monsieur, please wait for me, monsieur!" she cried, fearing that he was leaving without her and she would be left alone again. She walked to him on wobbly legs and tugged on Erik's forefinger, grinning up at him. "Thank you," she said again.

"Come along then." He urged and she obeyed without resistance. The going was slow, for the little girl was trekking along as carefully as possible on tired little legs. The two were silent for awhile until, for as long as a youth's attention span would last, the child broke the silence.

"What is your name, monsieur?" she asked. Erik hesitated for the third time that evening, his mind working at a high velocity once again. Oh, what could it hurt?

"Erik."

The little girl's eyes widened.

"Oh, I like that name monsieur!' she sighed truthfully. Erik chuckled to himself. To be young again.

"And what is your name, little one?" he asked, his gaze shifting to her little golden-brown head.

"Christine."

At this, Erik stopped dead in his tracks, one-thousand thousand memories flooding his mind in a rushing torrent of remembrance.

Listening to Christine speak to Raoul and recounting the tale of her first encounter with the Angel of Music, while he clung hopelessly to Apollo's Lyre.

Raoul crying out Christine's name from the locked dressing room door when he had first taken her to his labyrinth.

The stealing of Cesar, a white stallion from the Opera stables as a gift to Christine.

The sawing down of the chandelier from its bolted post.

One particular lesion with Christine when his heart shattered and eyes tear when her voice entered his ears, golden and pure.

The night Raoul had taken his private box on Christine's gala night.

The borrowing of bank notes from the baffled managers, Firmen and Moncharmin.

Christine consenting to be his bride, then allowing him to press his trembling lips to her little forehead.

Christine taking her leave of him when he had freed her, her fingertips leaving his—

"Monsieur!"

Erik started, falling out of the memories, as they shattered around him, piercing his legs, his arms, his heart. His flesh was on fire as he swallowed a bellow of rage, love, torment, and remorse. He was panting slightly, as if he had only finished running a long way.

"Forgive me." He implored softly and resolutely. He was trembling badly and felt too unstable on his legs to continue standing. Erik stumbled back, falling onto the glass that blasted a chill through his spine, reflected an eternity over. He raised a clawed hand to his heaving chest, trying to calm his ragged, uneven breaths. He was unsuccessful. He would have to remove his mask to return his body to himself. But he could not; it would be impossible under such a presence, such innocence…

"Monsieur! Please Monsieur! What is the matter?"

The tiny child cried out to him, moving in hesitant steps toward the wildly shifting man. He wished to answer her, to promise her he would be all right. Erik moved from the glass, but his poor body was not yet ready to reinstate the sudden weight and movement of motion. Erik stumbled and fell to the hard, dark ground; and to his horror, the mask slipped away from his face and landed ungracefully to the ground. His nightmare had once again been realized; his heart thundered in his throat and his stomach was now where his heart used to be. He waited for the terrified scream to erupt from the little girl and then the scampering away of hurried feet to escape the monster, to escape him. He waited, but nothing happened, not a sound. He raised his eyes to the little girl, now above him, and there was no sound from her still. She bore no expression, not even the smallest idea of what thoughts must have entered her mind, although her complexion may have gone a little paler.

She began to walk toward him, slowly. Erik did not know how to react or whether to flee himself. He was propped up somewhat on his elbows, his knees bent and leaning slightly toward one another, the rest of his clothing and cloak fell askew upon him where they saw fit. The little girl knelt beside him, her crystal blue eyes boring into his. Her tiny hand stretching out to his sullen cheek. It was then Erik flew into a panic—did she think his very face was a mask as well? She will be in for a terrible surprise if she believed that. His breath was caught in his breast, frozen in an instant, feeling like an eternity—

Her tiny fingers brushed his cheek in a tenderness he had never known, he had never experienced except when Christine had allowed him to kiss her, but even then, it was not Christine who had touched him first. And here, here was this tiny child, this little girl, this _young Christine_, gazing at him, unafraid. So near, so close, he could hear her small heartbeat, of a tender, dear heart, so pure!

The warmth from her little hand had spread throughout him and Erik felt a shocked calm course through him and a small beam of light pierce through the blackness that held his heart.

"Oh poor monsieur…" she whispered, her clear blue eyes blurring with pure, untainted tears. "My poor friend, Erik," and she cupped his face with her two tiny hands.

It was almost too much for his old and weary heart could take. His soul was crying and thick tears streamed down his laden cheeks. He would surely die—no, he was dying again, dying of true happiness. This little Christine had given him a gift no other had even thought to give him, not even his poor dear mother. Love. Erik was choking on this new emotion, this new raw emotion; he hardly identified it at first. Oh, love! Love, honest love, willing love, precious love! This power gave Erik hope. Love and hope, in such a small package—within a parcel no larger than that of the child that knelt beside him.

"Oh, my little Christine," he murmured through his tears. He took a few sparse breaths and stood somewhat woozily with passion and dazed with the situation at hand. He retrieved his mask but did not replace it on his face, not yet. He would revel in the instance where he was free out in the open and he took the little Christine by the hand.

At last, the entrance was in sight and the little girl became quite excited that she sprang up and down, jostling Erik's arm in the process. A woman could be heard in the near distance, calling the young girl's name. Erik's heart quickened as he fumbled with his mask to place it once again over his face. Erik gripped the little girl's hand firmly, already missing her. The one who did not fear. Christine gazed up at him with her crystal blue eyes, alight with the flame of full and unspoiled youth and a grin to outlast the brilliance of the sun. She squeezed his hand once and looked back at the entrance.

"Mama!"

She released Erik's hand and rushed forward into her loving mother's shocked embrace. The child crying happily at having finally found her mother and the mother herself sobbing in relief and happiness, murmuring sweet nothings to her child, chidings were beyond her for the moment.

"Mama, mama!" Christine exclaimed a muffled call into her mother's long golden hair. "You must meet my friend—he saved me mama!" she moved toward the maze, tugging on her mother's sleeve. "He came into the maze and saved me!"

Her mother stood and looked down the mirrored hall with wary eyes; she had nearly lost her child once to the cold passage and she was not about to allow the mistake to happen twice in the same night. She took her child by the hand.

"My little one, there is no one there…"

"Quickly mama, you must meet him!"

And the tiny girl tugged her mother into obedience down the hall, with a determination only to be found in one so young of age. "Erik…Erik!" she cried into the silence, a sad confusion crumbling her features. Where had her friend gone?

"Mama, he was here…" and it was then she saw a tiny, crumpled red rose lying resolutely on the ground.

_Fini_

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**A/N: _Phantom of the Opera_ tapped into a darker side of me which I have learned to appreciate! I can't quite remember how this story came up anymore…I think someone may have said something along the "in the smallest package" lines and it was like fingers snapping to the idea: "That's a _Phantom_ story for sure!" **

**At any rate, I hope you enjoyed the story and that you will all review!!!**


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